


Grateful

by smileanddoitanyway



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek is a werewolf, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Stiles is mouthy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 06:01:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smileanddoitanyway/pseuds/smileanddoitanyway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grateful: adjective<br/>feeling or showing an appreciation of kindness; thankful</p><p>Sometimes Stiles needs to remember to be grateful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grateful

**Author's Note:**

> Some writers block on another project, so I wrote this. Please enjoy!

GRATEFUL

They’d had dinner with the Sheriff, just like they did every week. At first there was a little tension, what with the arrest record Derek sported, but finally he and the Sheriff bonded over steak. “The rarer the better,” Derek had mumbled around a huge bite. Stiles’ dad had snorted around his own mouthful in agreement. 

“You are both disgusting,” Stiles admonished. Derek bared his teeth.

“Stiles, you should be grateful that you have someone who knows a thing or two about quality meat. I mean-that’s not what I meant!” Derek and Stiles both burst out laughing while the Sheriff just turned bright red. “For cooking. Cooking good food, real food,” the Sheriff mumbled to his plate.

Stiles grinned at his dad once he’d caught his breath and said, “Dad, Derek should be grateful I know my way around quality meat. Not the other way around.” Derek and the Sheriff shared twin expressions of embarrassed horror that sent Stiles into another laughing fit.

However, now that they are in the car, Stiles can tell he’ll be paying for that comment later. “Did you get enough to eat?” he ventures quietly. Derek keeps staring out the windshield, hands gripping the steering wheel firmly at 10 and 2. “I think I may have eaten too much. I keep forgetting that I don’t have your werewolf metabolism, so it’s ok for me to leave part of the cow on my plate.” Still no reaction. The lack of feedback sparks a flicker of fear in Stiles’ gut, but it’s no match for the burning arousal already pooling.

Derek remains silent as they enter the house, go upstairs to their room, brush their teeth, and change for bed. He barely looks at Stiles. His face is set in a blank expression that doesn’t falter until Stiles is standing by their dresser, stark naked, looking for some comfortable boxers to use as pajamas. “Get on the bed,” Derek growls. 

Stiles looks over his shoulder to see Derek, naked, standing by the bed, rope and blindfold in hand. Damn, Stiles’ hadn’t even heard him open up their toy box in the closet. He swallows thickly, shuts the dresser drawer, and walks toward Derek slowly. “If I have to repeat the order, there will be consequences,” Derek warns. A million options flash through Stiles’ mind in a split second, but he decides the risk outweighs the reward. He’s already made Derek angry by humiliating him; he doesn’t need to add disobedience to the list of grievances against him.

He alters his trajectory and climbs onto the mattress without complaint. “Good boy,” Derek rumbles. Stiles feels Derek’s hand slide down his ribs and shivers at the touch. “Lay back against the pillows.”

Stiles obeys, getting comfortable. “Arms up.” He crosses them at the wrist without being told. Derek gives him an approving nod as he ties him to the headboard. They’d bought one with slats for just this reason. “Head up.” The blindfold turns Stiles’ world completely black. He doesn’t expect the quick contact of Derek’s lips on his, so Derek has already pulled away by the time he thinks to respond. He feels his cheeks flush at the tiny whimper he lets out. Derek laughs, but it has a dark edge to it. Derek blows cool air across Stiles’ abdomen that makes his stomach twitch at the sensation. “I’ll show you who needs to be grateful,” Derek murmurs just before he bites at Stiles’ hipbone. 

Stiles jumps and howls. The sharp pain had almost tickled, but not quite. Derek pulls one of Stiles’ knees to the side and smacks the inner thigh. “Don’t move.”

“Yes, sir,” Stiles whimpers. The bed creaks and dips as Derek crawls between Stiles’ legs. Stiles can feel Derek’s body heat on his thighs, his warm breath ghosting over Stiles’ half-hard cock, but there is no skin-to-skin contact. “Please,” Stiles whispers into the stillness.

“Please what?” Derek replies. His lips are close enough to Stiles’ erection that they skim across the head, feather-light. There’s not enough air for Stiles to form a coherent response. “Do you know what ‘grateful’ means, Stiles?” Derek asks. He licks a bead of precum from the head of Stiles’ dick. Stiles keens and tries not to thrust his hips. He knows that would count as disobedience. “You can speak.”

“It…it means,” Stiles stammers. “To be thankful. To appreciate what is given.”

“Very good,” Derek breathes. Stiles’ cock twitches closer to his mouth, so Derek pulls the head in past his lips. He hears a gurgling sound from above him. The gurgling turns into a moan of protest when he releases Stiles’ dick with a soft pop. “What are you grateful for, Stiles?”

“What?”

“I want to know. What are you grateful for?”

Stiles can sense there is a right answer and there is a wrong answer, but he can’t figure out what they are. “I am grateful to have someone who knows a thing or two about quality meat?” he gambles.

“I know that’s not true, since you told your dad as much earlier,” Derek says as he rubs his stubble on the inside of Stiles’ thighs. “What are you grateful for?” This time the question is more of an order and the beard burn is interrupted by a nip to the inside of Stiles’ knee. 

“Oh my God, I’m sorry about that, ok?” Another bite, this one harder. 

“Answer the question.”

“I’m…I’m grateful for…” Oh shit, his mind is completely blank. He scrambles for an answer, any answer at all. “I’m grateful for indoor plumbing!” Derek rewards him with a lick from the base of Stiles’ dick to the tip.

“What else?” There’s a challenge in Derek’s voice that Stiles wants to meet.

“I’m grateful for area rugs.” Another lick. “And…electricity.” Derek takes the head of Stiles’ cock into his mouth. “And hot water.” He moves down until Stiles’ dick hits the back of his throat. “Books.” Derek starts to build up a rhythm with every item Stiles adds to his list. “Coffee. The internet. Candles. Glasses. For drinking and seeing. Television. DVDs. Central air conditioning. Scott. My dad. You. Fast reflexes. Werewolf stamina…” the list goes on. A few minutes in, Stiles repeats himself. “I’m so fucking grateful for you!” he chokes out. He can feel his orgasm starting to tingle in the tips of his fingers and toes, but Derek pulls off abruptly. His lips are red and swollen; the lower half of his face is dripping with spit and Stiles’ precum. Stiles can't see it, but he can picture it, and that mental picture is driving him crazy. “Wha-?”

“You only get rewarded if you don’t repeat yourself. Saying the same things over and over again is too easy,” Derek explains. He sounds a little disappointed that Stiles didn’t get it sooner.

“I’m grateful for your blowjobs,” Stiles gasps. He is willing to try anything to get that mouth back on him. It works. “Your tongue. Your mouth. Your face, fuck!” Derek slips one spit-slick finger behind Stiles’ sack and circles his hole. “Your eyes! Your eyebrows!” Derek makes an inquisitive sound, but doesn’t stop sucking dick or teasing Stiles’ ass. “Your hair! Hair gel!” Stiles grunts as Derek’s finger finally breaches him. He tries to reach for Derek’s dark locks, but the rope around his wrists keeps him in place. Derek starts to pull off, but Stiles starts shouting. “NO! NO! Uh…bricks! Circumcision! Music! Sex! Orgasms! Your orgasms! Your teeth!” The new items don’t stop Derek from releasing Stiles’ thick, throbbing cock, but he rewards the effort with a lick across Stiles’ hole. “Holy God, that feels so good. I’m grateful for you not stopping doing that. I’m grateful for you licking my asshole until I come! I’m grateful for you fingering my hole until I’m loose and wet and begging! I am so, so fucking grateful! I’m grateful for you jerking me off when I’m this close to coming. Please, Derek, please-“

Derek stops licking and pumping his fingers, three of them, but does leave them inside Stiles, who sounds like he’s about to cry. “Begging is not telling me what you are grateful for, Stiles.” Sometimes Derek can sound incredibly menacing. 

“I’m grateful for lube,” Stiles sighs. “Flavored and not,” Stiles continues. “Too-small t-shirts. Boxer briefs. Nipples.”

Derek takes pity and grabs the lube from the nightstand. “What else?” he prompts. 

“Rope. Sunscreen. Nail clippers. Scented candles.” Every item gets Derek to stroke his dick with a lubed hand. The wet sound of skin on skin is filthy. Stiles stutters, “Sinks. Water bottles. Bookmarks. Erlenmeyer flasks.” Derek pushes two lubed fingers into Stiles and is pleasantly surprised at how easy they slip in and out. “Ink. Computers. Socks.” He lines himself up against Stiles’ hole and hikes one of Stiles’ legs up around his waist. “Penetration.” There’s silence, so Derek holds himself still, only halfway into Stiles. The groan Stiles lets out vibrates from his chest down into Derek’s dick, but he refuses to move until Stiles keeps talking. “Flowers. Crowns. Friendship. Dicks. Asses. Ah!” Derek gives a particularly rough push to finally bottom out.

“Is this what you wanted?” Derek asks.

“Yes, yes, please move! Please! I’m sorry, really. Just fucking move.” 

Derek smiles against Stiles' throat. “You know how to make me move.”

“Fucking! Rimming! Cartoons! Low-sodium bacon! Soda!” Derek sets a rough pace with intention. The time for teasing is over. Stiles is hot and tight and almost not slick enough, but Derek knows they both like the drag. “Chairs! Ugh! Ah! Rope burns! Hickeys! Legos! Curly fries! Oh shit, Derek, I’m gonna come! Plates! Uh! Oh! Fuck! Chalkboards! My Jeep! Forests! Windex! I-I-I’m coming!” With a high-pitched scream, Stiles spills across his own stomach. His cum runs across his torso and down his ribs to drip onto the sheet below him. 

Derek doesn’t stop his punishing rhythm, which makes Stiles squirm beneath him. He fucks Stiles through his orgasm, until his walls clamp down tight enough to make it almost impossible to plunge in or pull out. “I’m grateful for whatever you want to give me,” Stiles mumbles. The cold honesty punches Derek’s orgasm out of him. He feels like he’s coming for hours, but knows Stiles would bitch if that were the case. 

“Fuck,” Derek breathes once he comes down. 

“Pretty sure we just did that,” Stiles comments. The blindfold is still in place so he can’t actually see Derek’s scowl, but the shit-eating grin on his face means he’s imagining it just fine.

“You’re lucky I don’t leave you tied up.,” Derek scolds as he undoes the knots holding Stiles’ arms above his head. "Or comment on the questionable connections between the things on that list." He rubs Stiles’ shoulders to get the blood flowing again, but leaves removal of the blindfold up to Stiles. Sometimes he prefers to leave it on for a little while after. 

“I’m grateful for the consideration,” Stiles replies. He pushes the blindfold up onto his forehead to meet Derek’s gaze. He knows he’ll never hear the word “grateful” again without popping an immediate boner, but considers that a small price to pay. 

“I’ll show you grateful,” Derek grins, embarrassed and proud mixed together, and leans in to kiss Stiles properly.


End file.
